tiny little adiantum
by gardevoir
Summary: Because you're already speaking with that wicked voice.
1. my lips are just glossed

okay I have absolutely NO explanation for this it's so filthy ljflksjdkl I saw his long flowing locks after the timeskip and I just went FERAL

yes I do realise the dissonance between the song's ambiance and what you're about to read here thank you

anyway as the only H*rny For Ferdinand Stan©️ on the internet, looks like I'm just gonna have to fill the Dorothea/Ferdie (and others) tag mySELF

btw some big ol' spoilers for Ferdie Birdie's A support with Dorothea in this first chapter so if you don't want that ruined for you, I'd suggest getting the heck outta here

/

both chapters were originally just gonna be me vicariously living through By/Ferdinand but after I thought more on that A support Ferdie had with Dorothea, I felt it was more fitting that she would peg

she seems more the pegging type than myself tbh (sentences you would never think you'd speak into existence...)

also there may be a third chapter with "[Ferdinand voice] hot but in a rat way" Edelgard's Reply Guy but we'll see

[uses information from wikipedia abt what dildos were made out back in the 1400s as if those and strap-ons are canon in this world]

* * *

(_I wonder if you don't like thin, pale lips...?_)

* * *

Despite their positions, there's still a mutual reverence to be found in the other's eyes.

In contrast to her gaze, a satisfied grin makes its way onto Dorothea's lips, enraptured by the way Ferdinand takes the stone phallus into his mouth. She can feel her skin prickle with warmth as he licks from base to tip, stares held as his eager tongue pleasured her. She can see the question his eyes now ask where his mouth cannot, nodding in affirmation as she pushes long, orange strands away from his face.

_ Does this please you?_

"This pleases me very much, my little bee," she coos, "_but_…" She cards her fingers through his hair, right hand ceasing at the back of his head. "I feel you could please me even more…"

Her grin turns impish once her digits find purchase in their resting place, tugging hair and head away from the strap-on. Though he hisses from the sting at his scalp, a furtive glance down reveals his cock twitching in excitement—in_ anticipation_.

Ah, a hiss of pain he _relishes_ in, then.

"Ready?" Dorothea asks. She expects the eager nod she receives, needing to hear him say it all the same. "Use your words, Ferdie."

"_Yes, Dorothe_—"

A glint hits her eye, her fist pulling light orange strands taut. Ferdinand finds his head bowed back as her lips _just_ graze his when she leans forward and speaks. "_Whom_?"

"Yes, _my queen_," he corrects swiftly, the apology in his tone clear and sincere.

"Good little bee." She rewards him with a brief peck for his answer.

With her hand now lax, she allows him to move at his own pace; he's well aware of what she anticipates next, and he's never one to disappoint. After another abrupt rejoining of their eyes, his mouth engulfs her cock, stopping only when it hits the back of his throat. The sight alone sends a tingle down her spine, the back of her left hand caressing his right cheek. Gently, she uses her right hand's grip to pull him away, pressing one more kiss to his lips before her grin grows feral.

In an instant, Ferdinand gags, hands bracing themselves upon Dorothea's thighs. He stills himself unlike before, his blunt nails digging into her skin when he hears her moans, holding still as the hand buried in his locks now sets the pace on his deepthroating endeavor. She, meanwhile, revels in the sounds emanating from below her; his watery light brown that flick to her glimmering jade green has her working at her lower lip.

He really is so obedient, _so good_, and she tells him as such.

Compared to most nights, she is merciful this time, allowing him reprieve after only a few minutes of having him take her, adding brief pauses in between. His head is bowed back a third time when she has his ministrations cease, preening as he watches her study him. Tears had spilled and streaked themselves down his cheeks while spittle had gathered at the corners of his mouth and dribbled down his chin.

She had thoroughly made a mess of him already.

In addition to his preening, she can see the way his eyes had nearly glazed over, on the verge of losing himself in pleasing her; her theory is confirmed once she senses how dazed he is after her tongue slides into his mouth.

He teeters on the edge of euphoria and she intends to shove him off it.

When she pulls her mouth away from his, he trails her for a moment before returning to his senses, vocalising a soft whine. Instead of pursing another kiss, however, he notes that she hadn't batted his hands away; kneading at the plush flesh of her thighs during this rare moment, he looks to her for instruction, daring a question he can never quite seem to form immediately. "Am I… Have I… Is my performance up to par, my queen?"

The beam he receives is nearly blinding. "Oh, you're doing _so well_, my little bee," she purrs as she pushes him back by his shoulders, getting to her feet. She walks to the left side of the bed, digging into the drawer of the nightstand to produce a small glass jar of oil. Rather than unscrewing the lid, she pauses, observing the man that tidies up his face and rises to his feet as well. "Would you like to continue or…?"

Ferdinand shakes his head no at the open-ended half of Dorothea's inquiry, his knees first to touch the bed she'd just stood from. "Let us continue. _Please_."

Despite the effort she can tell he put in trying to mask his desperation, he is far too earnest to hide it even a bit; the physical indicator of aforementioned desperation tilting toward his stomach also helps. She opens the jar slowly, jade eyes outlining every hill and valley of his body as he assumes the position she wants him in for the next half of their session. She smirks when he begins to squirm under her lengthy stare, the flush of embarrassment running from his cheeks to his chest. "D-Dorothea…"

"Ah, sorry, Ferdie. Even _I _find myself hypnotised at times."

She laughs softly at the way his blush darkens when she hearkens back to his words at the cathedral, stroking his hair before finally opening the jar. She dollops a generous helping into her left hand before setting the jar on the nightstand with her right, kneeling directly behind him when she joins him on the bed. With his ass in the air while on all fours, it's easy enough for her to work him open after swiping some oil onto her first two fingers.

Dorothea's scissoring is teasing and playful, the crook of her fingers never quite hitting where he wants—_needs_—her most. What starts as pleading pants of her name become unrestful writhing, unsubtly attempting to get her to fuck him with her fingers.

But, of course, she sees right through his obvious ploy.

"Ah, ah, ah!" she sings, removing her fingers much to his chagrin. She had _just_ begun brushing against where he'd desperately yearned for. "Is my little bee trying to disobey my rules? Does he not want to be a good drone anymore?"

"M-My apologies, my queen. I promise you it shall not happen again. Please forgive my misguided insurrection."

She leans to the right, making sure her gaze meets his where his head tilts toward the pillows underneath him. "We won't let that happen again, hm?" His fervent nod is enough to suffice.

She doesn't spend much longer following that teasing him with her fingers, finishing up her preparations with a firm smack to his rear. Using the remaining oil in her left palm, she slickens the cool stone with both hands, catching the glance Ferdinand throws over his shoulder. He flushes once again upon being caught, drawing a soft chortle from her lips as she lines herself up. "Ferdie? Still good to go?"

He nods—he remembers to give a verbal response shortly after, realising she can't really see the motion from this angle, what with his head lowered. "I am more than ready, Dorothea. I implore you; please continue." He doesn't even try to hide his desire this time.

And she certainly doesn't need to be told twice.

The slow, methodical way she inches slowly into him is maddening, though some foggy, almost silent part of his mind reminds him nearly anything else would never have been _nearly_ this delicious; the moan that pushes past his previously sealed lips has her covered in gooseflesh. She remains still once she's buried to the hilt, left hand gliding lightly across his skin from between his shoulder blades to the small of his back. The action has his flesh matching hers.

"Everything alright?" she rasps, swallowing thickly at the sight before her. It'd always been difficult for her to maintain composure once they'd gotten this far. She'd wager she was going just as mad as he was. "Let me know when to keep going… or if we should stop."

They pause in a charged silence as he adjusts, hands gradually fisting the sheets below him. "Everything is… more than alright. I-I am fine… d-do go on," he stammers with what little air remains in his lungs.

At his cue, she begins, thrusts slow and shallow. Her hands stay at his hips, though they ultimately provide no assistance as he's already moved them on his own. She murmurs five words of encouragement, "You're so good, my bee," leaning down to press a kiss at the base of his neck to spur him even more.

It only takes mere minutes for this peaceful pace to dissipate, however.

Unexpectedly expected, Ferdinand finds himself crying out after every swift, strong thrust, head sinking lower and lower until his forehead hit the pillows. His entire upper body slumps toward the bed as well; his forearms are the only things supporting him as his hips roll back in time with the rhythm she sets. But this is not enough for her.

Unenthused by his current position, she takes hold of the hair at the crown of his head, grip tight as she makes him hold himself up with the splay of his palms against the flat sheet. A cracked whimper breaks through the moans.

The created ease of access allows her to drape herself over his back, her lips reaching his right ear, teeth tugging at the top. "My little bee is so good to me—the _best_. He takes me so well…" She charms him with the melodic, nearly singing lilt of her voice, tracing the outline of his ear with her tongue. "You feel so good around my cock, Ferdie…"

She treats him to some particularly _rough_ thrusts at her accolades, the angle she'd shifted into hitting directly at his prostate. The cry in his throat is strangled; his head would have certainly plopped against the pillows again if she hadn't had such a tense hold on his hair. His entire body shudders violently; he wouldn't be surprised if she'd felt it at her hips in addition to her hands, even through the thrusts she had yet to relent from. "F-Fuck… Dorothea, I… going to… _cum_…"

All functions end abruptly then, much to his chagrin; he can't help the groan of frustration he replies with. "What's that? Ah, is my little bee about to cum without permission? How disappointing… and here I thought he wanted to be good for me…" Using the left hand that'd been on his hip to brace herself, she untangles the right from his mane, trailing a stray finger from the middle of his collarbone and down, down, _down_. "Bees that don't follow the rules will be punished…"

His shiver is just as vicious as the one that had gotten him into this predicament in the first place, a sob passing through unfiltered from his clenched teeth. Its cause is from the hold she takes on his neglected cock, the precum and residual oil on her smooth hand making him more than adequately slick for her impromptu handjob. "You don't want to be a _bad_ bee, do you?"

"No! No. I will be good for you, my queen; please, please, _please_, I shall be good, I will obey—" With another firm stroke against solid flesh, she silences him.

"Hm… Perhaps. But I think I'll need you to prove it…" she taunts a mere second before her right hand strokes him feverishly.

The difficulty he finds in complying with her demands is beyond any words to be found in his lexicon, voice pitching higher and higher as her hands shifts faster and faster. Through sheer strength of will and clenched jaw, he resists the urge singing through his blood, relief evident in his deep, shuddering exhale once her hand unwraps itself from around his cock.

"Ah, my little bee really did it! I suppose he's earned a reward for that achievement…" Feeling the pressure of her left hand on the space between his shoulder blades, he drops his upper body to the sheets again, sans the assistance of his forearms this time. Once her right returns to the crown of his head, shivers wrack his body once more, the anticipation of his reward yet to come overwhelming him.

Following the tug of his hair and pinning of his back, Dorothea pulls out before driving into him as calculated as before, pace now unrelenting. It's all he can do not to succumb immediately, keeping hold of his bearings for only a few moments more. "My qu—My queen, I-I… am going to… D-Do I—Did I—"

"Oh, Ferdie. You're the best little bee I could ever ask for."

They both know it's over then, another unsavoury, stuttering swear passing through his teeth before his broken moan echoes through the room, a stain appearing on his lower stomach and the flat sheet beneath. His weakened muscles tremble before he collapses fully onto the bed, grimacing simultaneously at the slick he's fallen into, as well as the laugh that reverberates from her chest to his after the face he makes.

… Well. He smiles _just a tad_ at that latter one.

He remains lying on his stomach as he watches her dismantle the leather harness, surging into action when she sets it aside to grasp at the flat sheet. "Please, Dorothea. Allow me."

Her protests go ignored as he stands on wobbling legs, stripping the bed of its top layer. Luckily, hardly anything had seeped through into the fitted sheet underneath. The flat sheet is discarded onto the floor, a matter to take care of in the morning, along with the harness that's dumped on top of said soiled sheets.

Pulling the duvet over themselves, Ferdinand is soon gathered up in Dorothea's arms, the latter humming an improvised tune as her fingers comb his tangled strands. When she presses a kiss to his forehead, he hums a note of contentment in return, eyes fluttering closed. "You know," he voices, stifling a yawn that threatens impropriety, "I feel as though I may have gotten it wrong."

"Oh?"

"Perhaps you are not a water nymph, after all. Rather, you are more akin to a siren…"

Though the sweet seduction of his exhaustion and her interrupted melody call upon him to crash upon the waves of sleep, he stays awake just long enough to smile at her chiming laughter and last piece of praise.

"You're delirious now, my little bee. You should rest; you did well tonight."

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_**author's note**_

an adiantum is also known as the "maidenhair fern" and well. with Ferdie Birdie's hair and all... it looks pretty maiden-like and like the way the fern itself looks when grows LMAO that's it that's the only explanation as to why I chose this song; everything else was me extrapolating and finding shit actually worked lyrics-wise


	2. that drip coffee is still bitter

_spoiler warning again: if you haven't seen/don't want to see references to their A and A+ supports, jump ship now_

LMAO OOP I'm nowhere NEAR getting to the BE route but the idea for Rat Bastard hit me like a bolt of lightning on a clear summer day

honestly I wasn't riding this ship at first and then one day I woke up and the gods blessed me with a revelation (and also it's like all over twitter so I can't escape it? I've seen like 434789 pieces of art for these two? I am not immune to propaganda lmao)

my thought process while trying to write Hubert's dialogue: "wow his personality is really hard to pin down how do I-oh wait he's just me when I was an edgy sardonic 14 year old nvm"; however, the fact of the matter is that I still haven't played the BE route, so I did my best with watching his supports. hope I got him pinned down for the most part ;p;

* * *

_(if I dissolve a bit of sugar in it and drink it,)_

* * *

Had Hubert been a more affable man, perhaps he may have considered expressing his gratitude in a more verbal manner. However, to his credit, his actions are two-fold: he intends to solve the answer to this riddle.

"The coffee you prepared for me before this morning's council… the blend was the one from Dagda, was it not?"

"Yes—yes, it was. I wished to surprise you with—" Ferdinand takes a moment to exhale, "with it. Hubert, I shall not complain that you are th-thanking me in this way," he clears his throat, "but may I remind you that we have hardly enough time to spare that affords us a tryst?" Despite himself, he hums with satisfaction. "We must return to the Cardinals' Room promptly."

The addressed simply nudges the addressee's chin upward to reach the tanned expanse below, hips pressing harder into his to exacerbate the slow, calculated rolling. "If this were simply an act of gratitude, I would have surceased long ago." The cavalier's cape, gauntlets, and other adornments that had once concealed the upper half of his body now lay in an ignored pile on the floor; the only garments of the mage that could also be found there are his gloves, cape, and overcoat. "No, this is an_ interrogation_, Ferdinand," he murmurs against his neck as a right hand slithers into a mane of copper.

"I have already stated that it was only a trite—_ah_!" His eyes close with the sharp tug at the base of his head, hips surging forward as he lost himself momentarily in pleasure.

"That, as you well know, is not an acceptable answer. You _will_ tell me what it is that you and Dorothea were tittering on about that had you both glancing and giggling in my direction. The two of you are about as subtle as the rose on Lorenz's shoulder." Tilting Ferdinand's head back with the hair in his hold, Hubert's teeth nip previously unmarred skin, drawing another airy moan from above.

"I do not believe this is the most effective interrogation method… I am not particularly inclined to resist you."

"Oh, worry not. You will be begging for my mercy soon enough."

Before his statement can be questioned, sharp yellow meet light brown just as the latter is pushed backwards onto the bed, forced to hold himself up by his forearms.

"A pity, really," Hubert sighs, though the lack of remorse in his tone is clear. "You are usually so keen to please… A shame you would choose now of all times to do otherwise." After making quick work of the cavalier's trousers and boots, he continues, "I am… _disappointed_ by this turn of events."

A wicked smile curls his lips when he sees how quickly the man beneath him reacts, hand pushing down a chest that sought to rise and knocking away a palm that sought to stroke. "If you would like to rectify this wrong, it is merely a matter of—"

"I promise you it is nothing you would deem worthy of knowing."

"So you maintain your obstinacy. Very well then."

Shuffling away a bit from his seat between spread legs, he begins caressing creamy thighs with fingertips featherlight. He revels in the way Ferdinand shivers, noting the hands that tug and twist at sheets beneath them. His touch only climbed ever higher succeeding these observations, closer and closer to the arousal straining against the smallclothes that restricted it.

Then, just as his palm grazes against his cock, he stops.

"Hubert…," a shaky breath pleads.

The response it receives is yellow eyes that ask the same question his mouth had for the last fifteen minutes. When light brown eyes look away insistently and close, he continues.

The latter's smallclothes are removed, to both Ferdinand's benefit and detriment; the moment he is freed, his cock is enveloped in wet warmth. Anticipating it, steady hands hold his hips firm when they twitch out of reflex, pinning them to the sheets when they refuse to lower.

"Move, and this will cease immediately." The loss of warmth accompanying the growl in the threat is more than jarring, but not entirely unpleasant. If anything, it sends a jolt of pleasure from his head straight down to that traitorous pit in his stomach; he wants desperately to comply, but his desire to better see Hubert's ministrations—and to shift from this uncomfortable position—nearly superseded that desperation.

_Ah, so this is how he intends to play it._

Though he finds his resistance lacking and waning by the second, Ferdinand yet persists; the moans he catches in his chest pass through as needy whines and heavy pants instead. It does not stop the mounting pressure in his stomach, however.

"H-Hubert… Close—I—Please…"

The throaty chuckle he hears in the distance indicates that the mage is well aware of this gradual relenting, knowing what such a satisfied sound does to the cavalier—doubly so, what with the coinciding vibration around his cock; he isn't certain whether the frustration his brow knits is from this mutual understanding or from the abrupt end just as he was on the edge of bliss.

"You… are cruel…" he nearly sobs, curling in a bit on himself as his body thrums with a poor facsimile of what had been so fiendishly denied. The observer chortles as he cleans the minor mess that marks his chin, unmoving from his knelt position on the ground. Luckily, the pair had situated themselves on the side of the bed adjacent to the nightstand; with a simple swivel and search, he pulls out a small jar, smug smile never once leaving his face. When his eyes flit back to Ferdinand, he can see that his quarry had calmed a bit, though his lips were pursed with that ill-begotten pout: the one that only appears whenever he is preparing for petulance.

Hubert moves quickly, willing to entertain only one form of whining; he receives that type soon after he strokes the cock so eagerly awaiting the attention of his right hand slathered in oil. He takes it a step farther after witnessing a head thrown back and trembling thighs, a purr drawn from his lips. "Look at you, so eager to please. I would have commended you, were it not for your continuous defiance. I thought you wished to satisfy everyone's needs; why does it appear that you only disregard mine?"

The pout returns, despite his best efforts. "You… are more than aware that—_Goddess_—th-that is not true at all!" A flustered cry replies, stammering after a particularly firm stroke that had him thrusting up into that torturous hand. "You know that it is—_hah_—" Ferdinand cuts himself off when he clenches his jaw to suppress the demand his body screams for, rapid panting aiding him in maintaining control. "That it is… _you_… that I wish to… please the _most_!" he ekes out.

Despite the garbled nature of it, the mage catches the signaling swear that the other chokes on, hand gripping him tightly at the base. This time, his sudden end causes a violent, full-body shudder, the cavalier immediately pushing himself up into proper sitting position despite the earlier warning. He holds his face in his hands, still trembling with the now second release he'd been denied. All Hubert can hear are muffled chants of his name like a prayer, a plea frantic and frenzied.

It won't be long now.

"Lie down," he commands, offering the other a morsel of his desires with the self-satisfied smile he wears. His expression graduates into a grin; compliance had been expected, but the rush to the head of the bed speaks volumes. Unfortunately, he had not _quite_ had his fun yet.

Looming over the shorter man, he retrieves the jar of oil from the counter of the nightstand, yellow eyes that glint locking with light brown eyes that beg. The corner of the former's lips quirk deviously when those light brown close, his right hand descending lower and lower as his lips press against a neck concealed behind ginger strands. It's easy enough to nudge them away with his nose, the bruised skin he creates following the press of slick fingers into him.

The hiss and accompanying roll of hips draws another amused sound from above, relentless as he works Ferdinand open after a short pause. His movements focus precisely on his prostate, shameless moans at the sensation emanating from below. Much to the former's surprise, he has his motions halted when a hand wraps around his wrist. When their eyes meet once again, a whimper warbles.

"I yield! _I yield_! You have won! Just—_Goddess above_—please have mercy!"

Hubert remains still for only a second before he cackles from deep within his chest; his own body trembles, though merely from amusement, unlike—_well_. That had not been entirely factual, considering the state of his own frustrations, finding his clothing more and more constricting by the second. Any remaining garments on his person are peeled away. He fixes his gaze to Ferdinand's one last time, easily reading the request that nearly vocalizes itself.

The mage discovers he is more than eager to acquiesce, having neglected his own needs up until now to bring about the cavalier's ruin. To remedy this, he shifts to kneel, grabbing the latter's hips and pulling him in as close as possible. Releasing the left side from his vice grip, his fingers trailed upward along marred flesh, ending their travels at Ferdinand's sternum. There, only one fingertip skimmed along the skin studiously, writing the praises, compliments, adorations that he had previously withheld.

Closed eyes shoot open, an uncommon blush blooming across the ginger's enraptured expression. "A-Are you… what you wrote…"

"I did—_ah_—promise you I would put it in writing next time, yes?"

Ferdinand grows more fervent at this, sitting up a second time. Hubert is more than willing to oblige again, holding close his lover in his lap. His left hand takes hold of the tangled locks once more, keeping the strands taut; the right explores the scarred expanse of skin as their mouths meet. At the slide of his tongue, a new message is written, three little words scrawled into the small of the cavalier's back.

The recipient pulls from the kiss almost instantly. "I—"

"I know, Ferdinand. You needn't say it back."

"But I _must_!" He takes hold of the mage's face, brushing raven strands out of the way to see both eyes. "I love you, Hubert! _Adore you_!"

It's Hubert's turn to lose.

It is not long after their return to the kiss that he reaches his peak, fumbling to aid his partner reach his own; that, too, is brief. When they part again, the latter is positively glowing despite his exhaustion, a knowing, triumphant grin on his face. Flustered, the _normally_ stoic man takes that moment to turn away, retrieving a handkerchief from the inside of his coat to tidy up the stains on his hand and the boisterous man's chest.

As they redress themselves, Ferdinand studies his companion, watching the complexion of bliss backslide into annoyance. "Well? You are once again giving me that infernal stare. What did you two discuss that has you looking at me like that?"

"Ah. Right." He takes a moment to look a bit sheepish, reluctant to share. "I… I was speaking with Dorothea about… well, you. She cornered me into an odd conversation following my mention of how you and I are committed. She asked me… _why_ I am attracted to you."

"And…?"

"That was easy enough to answer. I informed her that you complement me quite well—my foil, essentially. But…"

Rather than pursue a continuation of the tale verbally this time, Hubert encouraged it with a flourish of his hand.

"When she clarified that she had meant what attracted me to you _physically_, I had nary an answer. It was not something I had considered in-depth, truthfully; the response I gave her was nebulous at best. So… she decided to share her own conjecture. She—"

He glances away from the pair of yellow eyes that burn into him with impatience, deliberating how best to construct this next sentence. "She said that perhaps… perhaps your attractiveness is comparable to the way in which one finds appeal in a rat."

"A… rat."

"Her exact words—if I recall correctly—were 'He's like a rat, you know? Always squeaking and skittering about in the shadows, but still kinda cute in a weird way.'"

"And do you _agree_ with this assertion?"

While he is successful in stifling his laughter, his hand is not swift enough to conceal his smile. However, he does not wither under the glower he receives, simply offering an unapologetic "… _Well_."

* * *

_**author's note**_

yeah they gay keep scrolling

I have no idea of the Dagda blend was special or not but ssh we're gonna pretend it is


End file.
